Treasures from Grandma's Attic

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Treasures from Grandma's Attic Page 1

by Arleta Richardson




  The Grandma’s Attic Series

  In Grandma’s Attic

  More Stories from Grandma’s Attic

  Still More Stories from Grandma’s Attic

  Treasures from Grandma’s Attic

  TREASURES FROM GRANDMA’S ATTIC

  Published by David C Cook

  4050 Lee Vance View

  Colorado Springs, CO 80918 U.S.A.

  David C Cook Distribution Canada

  55 Woodslee Avenue, Paris, Ontario, Canada N3L 3E5

  David C Cook U.K., Kingsway Communications

  Eastbourne, East Sussex BN23 6NT, England

  David C Cook and the graphic circle C logo

  are registered trademarks of Cook Communications Ministries.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes,

  no part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form

  without written permission from the publisher.

  LCCN 2011930765

  ISBN 978-0-7814-0382-5

  eISBN 978-1-4347-0457-3

  © 1984, 2011 Arleta Richardson

  First edition titled Treasures from Grandma published by David C Cook in 1984 © Arleta Richardson.

  The Team: Don Pape, Susan Tjaden, Amy Konyndyk, Sarah Schultz, Jack Campbell, Karen Athen

  Cover Design: Melody Christian

  Illustrations: Patrice Barton

  Third Edition 2011

  To the Franklins,

  Bob

  Ella

  Christi

  Ginger

  Grandmother G.,

  who gave me

  two of life’s most priceless gifts:

  someone to love and someone to be loved by

  Grandma’s Stories

  Introduction: When Grandma Was Young

  1. Cousin Agatha

  2. A New Friend

  3. Christmas Spirit

  4. The Perfect Paper

  5. Wesley’s Lesson

  6. The Seamstress

  7. The Autograph

  8. The Farewell Party

  9. Really Responsible

  10. The Tangled Web

  11. Gypsies!

  12. The Expensive Bookcase

  13. Monday’s Child

  14. The Fortune-Teller

  15. Revenge

  Introduction

  When Grandma Was Young

  More than one hundred years ago—that’s when Grandma Mabel and her best friend, Sarah Jane, were girls growing up on neighboring farms in Michigan. Their lives were very different from yours. The train came through their nearby small town, but they never saw a plane or bus or taxi. The two girls couldn’t call each other on the phone. They didn’t have video games or dishwashers at home—they didn’t even have electricity!

  But in other ways, Mabel and Sarah Jane were just like you. They quarreled and made up, plotted mischief that backfired, and tried their families’ patience with their dreams and schemes.

  Spend a few days with these two friends. Then you decide: Are they so different from you after all?

  1

  Cousin Agatha

  My best friend, Sarah Jane, and I were walking home from school on a cold November afternoon.

  “Do you realize, Mabel, that 1886 is almost over? Another year of nothing important ever happening is nearly gone.”

  “Well, we still have a good bit of life ahead of us,” I replied.

  “You don’t know that,” Sarah Jane said darkly. “We’re thirteen and a half. We may already have lived nearly a third of our allotted time.”

  “The O’Dells live to be awfully old,” I told her. “So, unless I get run down by a horse and buggy, I’ll probably be around awhile.”

  We walked along in silence. Then suddenly Sarah Jane pulled me to the side of the road. “Here’s the horse and buggy that could keep you from becoming an old lady,” she kidded. We turned to see my pa coming down the road.

  “Want to ride the rest of the way, girls?” he called. We clambered into the buggy, and Pa clucked to Nellie.

  “What did you get in town?” I asked.

  “Some things for the farm and a letter for your ma.” Around the next bend, Pa slowed Nellie to a halt. “Your stop, Sarah Jane.”

  “Thanks, Mr. O’Dell.” Sarah Jane jumped down. “I’ll be over to study later, Mabel. ’Bye.”

  “Who’s the letter from?” I asked Pa.

  “Can’t tell from the handwriting. We’ll have to wait for Ma to tell us.”

  When Ma opened the letter, she looked puzzled. “This is from your cousin Agatha,” she said to Pa. “Why didn’t she address it to you, too?”

  “If I know Aggie, she wants something,” Pa declared. “And she figured you’d be more likely to listen to her sad story.”

  Ma read the letter and shook her head at Pa. “She just wants to come for Thanksgiving. Now aren’t you ashamed of talking that way?”

  “No, I’m not. That’s what Aggie says she wants. You can be sure there’s more there than meets the eye. Are you going to tell her to come ahead?”

  “Why, of course!” Ma exclaimed. “If I were a widowed lady up in years, I’d want to be with family on Thanksgiving. Why shouldn’t I tell her to come?”

  Pa took his hat from the peg by the door and started for the barn, where my older brothers, Reuben and Roy, were already at work. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he remarked as he left.

  “What did Pa warn you about?” I asked as soon as the door closed behind him. “What does Cousin Agatha want?”

  “I don’t believe Pa was talking to you,” Ma replied. “You heard me say that she wants to come for Thanksgiving.”

  “Yes, but Pa said—”

  “That’s enough, Mabel. We won’t discuss it further.”

  I watched silently as Ma sat down at the kitchen table and answered Cousin Agatha’s letter.

  Snow began to fall two days before the holiday, and Pa had to hitch up the sleigh to go into town and meet the train. “It will be just our misfortune to have a real blizzard and be snowed in with that woman for a week,” he grumbled.

  “Having Aggie here a few days won’t hurt you,” Ma said. “The way you carry on, you’d think she was coming to stay forever!”

  Pa’s look said he considered that a distinct possibility. As I helped Ma with the pies, I questioned her about Cousin Agatha.

  “Has she been here before? I can’t remember seeing her.”

  “I guess you were pretty small last time Agatha visited,” Ma replied. “I expect she gets lonely in that big house in the city.”

  “What do you suppose she wants besides dinner?” I ventured.

  “Friendly company,” Ma snapped. “And we’re going to give it to her.”

  When the pies were in the oven, I hung around the window, watching for the sleigh. It was nearly dark when I heard the bells on Nellie’s harness ring out across the snow.

  “They’re coming, Ma,” I called. Ma hurried to the door with the lamp held high over her head. The boys and I crowded behind her. Pa jumped down from the sleigh and turned to help Cousin Agatha.

  “I don’t need any assistance from you, James,” a firm voice spoke. “I’m perfectly capable of leaving any conveyance under my own power.”

  “She talks like a book!” Roy whispered, and Reuben poked him. I watched in awe as a tall, unbending f
igure sailed into the kitchen.

  “Well, Maryanne,” she said, “it’s good to see you.” She removed her big hat, jabbed a long hat pin into it, and handed the hat to me. “You must be Mabel.”

  I nodded wordlessly.

  “What’s the matter? Can’t you speak?” she boomed.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I gulped nervously.

  “Then don’t stand there bobbing your head like a monkey on a stick. People will think you have no sense. You can put that hat in my room.”

  I stared openmouthed at this unusual person until a gentle push from Ma sent me in the direction of the guest room.

  After dinner and prayers, Pa rose with the intention of going to the barn.

  “James!” Cousin Agatha’s voice stopped him. “Surely you aren’t going to do the chores by yourself with these two great hulking fellows sitting here, are you?”

  The two great hulking fellows leaped for the door with a speed I didn’t know they had.

  “I should guess so,” Cousin Agatha exclaimed with satisfaction. “If there’s anything I can’t abide, it’s a lazy child.”

  As she spoke, Cousin Agatha pulled Ma’s rocker to the stove and lowered herself into it. “This chair would be more comfortable if there were something to put my feet on,” she said, “but I suppose one can’t expect the amenities in a place like this.”

  I looked at Ma for some clue as to what amenities might mean. This was not a word we had encountered in our speller.

  “Run into the parlor and get the footstool, Mabel,” Ma directed.

  After Cousin Agatha was settled with her hands in her lap and her feet off the cold floor, I started the dishes.

  “Maryanne, don’t you think Mabel’s dress is a mite too short?”

  Startled, I looked down at my dress.

  “No,” Ma’s calm voice replied. “She’s only thirteen, you know. I don’t want her to be grown up too soon.”

  “There is such a thing as modesty, you know.” Cousin Agatha sniffed.

  Pa and the boys returned just then, so Ma didn’t answer. I steered an uneasy path around Cousin Agatha all evening. For the first time I could remember, I was glad when bedtime came.

  The next day was Thanksgiving, and the house was filled with the aroma of good things to eat. From her rocker, Cousin Agatha offered suggestions as Ma scurried about the kitchen.

  “Isn’t it time to baste the turkey, Maryanne? I don’t care for dry fowl.

  “I see the boys running around out there with that mangy dog as though they had nothing to do. Shouldn’t they be chopping wood or something?

  “I should think Mabel could be helping you instead of reading a book. If there’s one thing I can’t abide—”

  “Mabel will set the table when it’s time,” Ma put in. “Maybe you’d like to peel some potatoes?”

  The horrified look on Cousin Agatha’s face said she wouldn’t consider it, so Ma withdrew her offer.

  A bump on the door indicated that the “mangy dog” was tired of the cold. I laid down my book and let Pep in. He made straight for the stove and his rug.

  “Mercy!” Cousin Agatha cried. “Do you let that—that animal in the kitchen?”

  “Yes,” Ma replied. “He’s not a young dog any longer. He isn’t any bother, and he does enjoy the heat.”

  “Humph.” Agatha pulled her skirts around her. “I wouldn’t allow any livestock in my kitchen. Can’t think what earthly good a dog can be.” She glared at Pep, who responded with a thump of his tail and a sigh of contentment.

  “Dumb creature,” Cousin Agatha muttered.

  “Pep isn’t dumb, Cousin Agatha,” I said. “He’s really the smartest dog I know.”

  “I was not referring to his intellect or lack of it,” she told me. “Dumb indicates an inability to speak. You will have to concede that he is unable to carry on a conversation.”

  I was ready to dispute that, too, but Ma shook her head. Cousin Agatha continued to give Pep disparaging glances.

  “Didn’t you ever have any pets at your house, Cousin Agatha?” I asked.

  “Pets? I should say not! Where in the Bible does it say that God made animals for man’s playthings? They’re meant to earn their keep, not sprawl out around the house absorbing heat.”

  “Oh, Pep works,” I assured her. “He’s been taking the cows out and bringing them back for years now.”

  Cousin Agatha was not impressed. She sat back in the rocker and eyed Pep with disfavor. “The one thing I can’t abide, next to a lazy child, is a useless animal—and in the house!”

  I began to look nervously at Ma, thinking she might send Pep to the barn to keep the peace. But she went on about her work, serenely ignoring Cousin Agatha’s hints. I was glad when it was time to set the table.

  After we had eaten, Pa took the Bible down from the cupboard and read our Thanksgiving chapter, Psalm 100. Then he prayed, thanking the Lord for Cousin Agatha and asking the Lord’s blessing on her just as he did on the rest of us. When he had finished, Cousin Agatha spoke up.

  “I believe that I will stay here until Christmas, James. Then, if I find it to my liking, I could sell the house in the city and continue on with you. Maryanne could use some help in teaching these children how to be useful.”

  In the stunned silence that followed, I looked at Pa and Ma to see how this news had affected them. Ma looked pale. Before Pa could open his mouth to answer, Cousin Agatha rose from the table. “I’ll just go to my room for a bit of rest,” she said. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  When she had left, we gazed at each other helplessly.

  “Is there anything in the Bible that tells you what to do now?” I asked Pa.

  “Well, it says if we don’t love our brother whom we can see, how can we love God whom we can’t see? I think that probably applies to cousins as well.”

  “I’d love her better if I couldn’t see her,” Reuben declared. “We don’t have to let her stay, do we, Pa?”

  “No, we don’t have to,” Pa replied. “We could ask her to leave tomorrow as planned. But I’m not sure that would be right. What do you think, Ma?”

  “I wouldn’t want to live alone in the city,” Ma said slowly. “I can see that she would prefer the company of a family. I suppose we should ask her to stay until Christmas.”

  “I think she already asked herself,” Roy ventured. “But she did say if she found things to her liking …”

  We all looked at Roy. Pa said, “You’re not planning something that wouldn’t be to her liking, are you?”

  “Oh, no, sir!” Roy quickly answered. “Not me.”

  Pa sighed. “I’m not sure I’d blame you. She’s not an easy person to live with. We’ll all have to be especially patient with her.”

  There wasn’t much Thanksgiving atmosphere in the kitchen as we did the dishes.

  “How can we possibly stand it for another whole month?” I moaned.

  “The Lord only sends us one day at a time,” Ma informed me. “Don’t worry about more than that. When the other days arrive, you’ll probably find out you worried about all the wrong things.”

  As soon as the work was finished, I put on my coat and walked over to Sarah Jane’s.

  “What will you do if she stays on after Christmas?” Sarah Jane asked.

  “I’ll just die.”

  “I thought you were going to be a long-living O’Dell.”

  “I changed my mind,” I retorted. “What would you do if you were in my place?”

  “I’d probably make her life miserable so she’d want to leave.”

  “You know I couldn’t get away with that. Pa believes that Christian love is the best solution.”

  “All right, then,” Sarah Jane said with a shrug. “Love her to death.”

  As th
ough to fulfill Pa’s prediction, snow began to fall heavily that night. By morning we were snowed in.

  “Snowed in?” Cousin Agatha repeated. “You mean unable to leave the house at all?”

  “That’s right,” Pa replied. “This one is coming straight down from Canada.”

  Cousin Agatha looked troubled. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.”

  “We’ll be all right,” Ma reassured her. “We have plenty of wood and all the food we need.”

  But Cousin Agatha was not to be reassured. I watched her stare into the fire and twist her handkerchief around her fingers. Why, she’s frightened! I thought. This old lady had been directing things all her life, and here was something she couldn’t control. Suddenly I felt sorry for her.

  “Cousin Agatha,” I said, “we have fun when we’re snowed in. We play games and pop corn and tell stories. You’ll enjoy it. I know you will!”

  I ran over and put my arms around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. She looked at me in surprise.

  “That’s the first time anyone has hugged me since I can remember,” she said. “Do you really like me, Mabel?”

  Right then I knew that I did like Cousin Agatha a whole lot. Behind her stern front was another person who needed to be loved and wanted.

  “Oh, yes, Cousin Agatha,” I replied. “I really do. You’ll see what a good time we’ll have together.”

  The smile that lit her face was bright enough to chase away any gloom that had settled over the kitchen. And deep down inside, I felt real good.

  2

  A New Friend

  Sarah Jane and I were approaching the school yard one morning, talking about nothing in particular, when we both came to a dead stop. Straight ahead stood a new girl leaning against a tree, watching the other children play.

  “Who do you think that is?” Sarah Jane asked. “I didn’t know anyone new had moved in.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but she has the reddest hair I’ve ever seen. Do you suppose she has a temper to match?”

  “I hope not,” Sarah Jane replied. “I wouldn’t want that much mad directed at me.”

 

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